


Courage

by thestargirl



Category: Courage the Cowardly Dog, Velvet Goldmine
Genre: Fluff, also im vicariously living through them so, genuinely just for my own entertainment and the entertainment of others, i just want my sons to be happy, really the cutest fluffiest least sad shit i ever wrote
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 03:58:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17317658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestargirl/pseuds/thestargirl
Summary: Curt Wild is on a mission to prove to his long-time French art film exclusive boyfriend that cartoons can, in fact, be fucking terrifying.





	Courage

“Genuinely,” Brian drawled, one hand draped over his face, “This is so ridiculous.”  
“You shut the fuck up.”  
“Curt, he is a cartoon dog. They are cartoon monsters. You have been doing this since Tom and Jerry and you have to stop, it’s taking years off my life.”  
Curt was crouched, now, in front of television, the remote forgotten by his knee as he jammed his finger against the channel button. Programs flickered by at the speed of light, assaulting Brian with bursts of broken dialogue and showers of static.  
“I’ve been doing what, exactly?” Curt asked, distracted, his wide blue eyes about an inch away from the screen.  
“Obsessing over these godforsaken cartoons- Remember, you spent an entire week in a funk because He-Man got cancelled, and then another time-“  
“This is different. I want you to know I’m not being stupid.”  
Despite the January cold, Curt wore nothing more than a pair of boxers, and goosebumps pimpled his shoulders. Brian sighed.  
“I don’t think you’re stupid, darling.”  
“You don’t understand.”  
“Could we at least do this tomorrow? It’s one in the morning.”  
“Won’t be on tomorrow. We have to catch the re-runs tonight.”  
Defeated, he fell sideways onto the couch, burrowing his head beneath a throw pillow. He knew better than to argue with Curt when he got like this. He could tell by the low, intent tone of his voice that he’d become obsessed with proving his point. That was the curse of being with him. Sometimes, his fierce single-mindedness lead to great works of art, and sometimes it lead to watching Courage The Cowardly Dog well into the early morning.  
“A-hah!” Curt screamed, forcing Brian out of his chilly doze, “Found it!”  
His head snapped up, knocking the pillow to the floor. His tired eyes were met with a slew of apocalyptic scenery, and a bandy-legged beagle who reminded him instantly of the scruffy, unwashed lunatic sitting in front of him.  
“Curt, for the love of God.”  
“Just watch.”  
The episode leapt into action- Brian watched dazedly as the beagle skipped across the barren ground, trailed by a silent, lurking demon.  
In an instant, Curt became quiet, and as still as Brian had ever seen him.  
“Curt, please-“  
“Shh!” He bumped the volume up a couple notches,  
“Watch.”

He had to admit that the show was unsettling, surreal, strange. Definitely of better quality than most of the garbage he’d watched Curt consume over the past few decades. He found that he appreciated the ironic humor, and felt slightly ashamed for being more than mildly entertained, for actually becoming involved in the plot. The horror element, which Curt had described in so much detail to him again and again, was out there considering the audience that it was supposed to be catering to. Around the midway point, he actually laughed aloud when Courage got hit over the head with a pan, causing him to sprout three terrible lumps. Curt whirled around and met him with a hurt, doe-eyed glare.  
“What is it, love?”  
“Eustice is an ass.”  
“My darling, you know I’d never laugh at that if it actually happened.”  
“But still.”  
Brian’s mouth twisted, aching with suppression,  
“Muriel is my favorite. She reminds me of my grandmother.”  
“She reminds me of you.”  
“And why do I remind you of a fat Irish woman?”  
“Brian! It’s back on.”

About fifteen minutes in, Curt’s stillness became truly unsettling. After thirty years of being in the company of such a hyperactive terror, his stony back became more frightening to Brian than anything happening on screen. Each time the show cut to commercial, he would stir slightly, heaving in a deep, grateful breath and massaging his bunched-up legs. Brian was surprised by how tense his shoulders had become: He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like Curt was moving further and further away from the television with the development of each new plot point. Having started with his nose brushing the screen, midway through the episode his back was pressed against the coffee table, his large hands wrapped protectively around each knee.  
With a sense of dawning amazement, he realized that he was genuinely afraid.  
Curt Wild, who would, as a fifty year old man, come home with multiple cuts worthy of stitches and proclaim that Brian was “Being a pussy about it,” Was truly unnerved by Cartoon Network.  
A warm, aching sort of tenderness began to bloom in his chest, spreading upwards until it became a flood of exhausted tears.  
He pressed his hand over his mouth as the episode reached its climax- The mysterious fanged monster burst through the ground, and wrapped a mighty paw around Courage-Trying not to frighten Curt any more than he already was.  
In front of him, he lowered his head onto his knees, watching in rapt silence as Courage beat the thing to death with a shovel.  
The episode ended with Courage falling asleep in Muriel’s lap, contented that the evil had been banished once more. The station cut to a commercial for some other mindless cartoon, something about awfully drawn, misshapen children.  
Curt’s entire body relaxed as he ran a hand through his filthy hair.  
“Well, shit, that was a good one.”  
He turned around, one cowlick sticking straight up over his brow, another arching awkwardly over his ear.  
“You’re crying!”  
Brian shook his head, but couldn’t seem to stop. It was something about Curt’s sleepy, earnest face, bathed in the artificial hue of the television, something about the gentle lift of his brows over his bright eyes. Tears literally dripped from his whitened cheeks- It seemed useless to wipe them away.  
Curt clambered up beside him on the couch, oddly warm and very insistent, clucking and mumbling in a comforting drawl. He pressed Brian’s face into his neck, and let him wrap around him like a little child.  
They sat that way for a moment while Curt got comfortable, his hand fidgeting with Brian’s, dwarfing it.  
“If it scared you that much, you shoulda told me. I’m sorry. I never ever should’ve shown you something like that.”  
Tears flooded his eyes again, sparked by his ridiculous, deadpan voice- He found himself shaking with laughter.  
Curt pulled away from him, frowning.  
“What’s funny?”  
“You are so good. You are the most wonderful boy.”  
Even in the washed out light, Curt’s face was slightly pink.  
“Okay.”  
Brian pressed a fervent kiss to his lips, and he returned it gently, obviously still concerned.  
“Did you like the show, then?”  
He smiled and squeezed his hand, playing with the fingers.  
“Absolutely not, it was awful. Very scary.”  
“Now you’re makin’ fun of me.”  
Brian kissed him again, firmer, longer.  
“I would never.”  
Curt’s face grew suddenly serious, and he cupped Brian’s cheek.  
“If it was us, I would still protect you.”  
“From monsters.”  
“Yes.”  
“Thank you.”  
“You don’t understand the significance of what I am saying to you now, Thomas.”  
“Don’t you dare use that name, Curtis.”  
“You’re such a bitch, Thomas.”  
Brian pulled away, fed up,  
“I’m going to sleep.”

He hauled himself to his feet, draping the quilt about his shoulders. The moon through the living room window was high and tinted yellow, very close and bright.  
Curt padded along behind him, the now silenced television still hissing with energy. One hand was knotted firmly in the quilt, which Curt insisted was for balance, but truthfully the moon outside reminded him more than a little of Nowhere. 

Brian fell into bed with a luxurious stretch, Curt following quickly behind.  
“Uh- No.”  
“What?”  
“Come here.”  
Brian shifted so that Curt’s head was on his chest, his hair tickling his chin.  
“Why won’t you let me hold you?”  
“Just let me do it tonight, honey. Let me protect you.”  
“Hm.”  
Curt nuzzled into Brian’s chest with a grateful sigh.  
Brian stroked his arm, already half asleep.  
“I’ve got you, Curtis. Just rest."  
"Fuck you."


End file.
